


The Ability To Know

by IAmAshamedOfMyFanfics (faraandmera)



Series: Skin Deep Reality AU (Oneshot Collection) [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Friendship, Gen, a good wholesome friendship, also theyre in college, harsh words cause physical scars and things are not a good, is completely unrelated to other fic in series, its not that angsty but you know be warned, mostly just flashbacks are placed particularly, slight non-liner timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 03:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12950001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faraandmera/pseuds/IAmAshamedOfMyFanfics
Summary: There’s a distinct difference between being afraid of people as a whole, and being afraid of giving them power over you. Being scared to leave your home, for fear someone will say something and give you a new pattern of insults on your skin, is inherently different from being afraid that you’ll allow someone the chance to speak, only for them to take that chance to do something which breaks whatever trust you’re allowing them.Jihoon isn't scared of people. He really isn't.What he's scared of are the scars already resting on his skin.





	The Ability To Know

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Version: http://iamashamedofmyfanfics.tumblr.com/post/168319866795/
> 
> I wrote literally all of this today and also might be very tired when editing so you know.  
> (though even then I tend to do okay)

Though you’ll never fully understand someone with just a first meeting, there’s a lot you can learn in the first few minutes you know someone. In the nearly seventy years before Jihoon was born- before the generation born around that time and everyone born after started gaining scars from harsh words- and the years since, this has become even more true. There’s a lot you can tell about someone, if you can see their scars, by what words stick with them. What words they, at one point, believed or hated enough for them to be carved into their skin.

Not every mean thing shows up, after all. If you don’t realize it’s an insult, or, maybe, if you truly, with all your heart, don’t believe it, it wont scar. If you can block the words out, wholly and completely, then they wont be seared into your skin by whatever yet unknown force decided humanity didn’t have enough ways to hurt each other. And, the less you believe them, the more the existing scars will fade into soft marks, instead of blistering, blaring, reds.

There’s a lot you can learn, when you first meet people, by just looking at them. If they choose not to hide their every scar, then which ones are startlingly red- new, or old and truly believed- which are faded, despite matching the same word, somewhere else, that’s harsh and fresh looking- the ones that were more self inflicted, than given. There’s a lot you can learn, in just a few seconds.

Which is as good a reason as any to wear long sleeves, and jackets, and scarves. To make sure that whatever scars he has- few, and faded, but there- aren’t visible when meeting new people. Not that Jihoon makes a habit of meeting new people. More often than not one of his already existing friends introducing him to someone is the only way that happens.

As is, currently, his- unnecessarily tall- friend, Mingyu, has dragged him out of his dorm- when he’s supposed to be studying for a test, the next week- to meet his new friends. A group of people Mingyu apparently shares multiple of his courses with, this year. Not surprising, since he’s downgraded his number of classes to be more manageable, and most of them are relating to his major. Last year he’d signed up for far too many, and spent most of his time stressed. Something which did no favors for him, especially when multiple stressed people spending time together was a disaster waiting to happen.

So, he’d cut back this year, and decided to primarily focus his attention. Thus leading him to meet his new friends. Friends who, of course, needed to meet Jihoon. For some reason. Jihoon's pretty sure this is just an excuse to make him leave his dorm, but he was also offered free food. Hunger won out over the want to never interact with another human being.

“I still stand by the fact that this is entirely unnecessary. Can’t I just meet your new friends naturally? Or, you know, never.”

“Because then you wouldn’t get free food?”

“I hate you, and your using my weaknesses against me.”

“That’s a lie.”

 

The first generation often talk about how difficult it was to grow up in a world where not only did harsh words cause physical scars, but also where nobody really understood anything behind it. It’s only a recent study- nearly five years old, now- that figured out that how much the person hearing the words believed them, or were hurt by them, had an affect on how they appeared. Over time, though, things have gotten arguably better.

At the very least, people know better what is going on. How much of an affect their words have. This had always been true, but the fact that it causes physical damage, now, helps solidify what people had been saying for hundreds of years. Words hurt just as much as anything else.

That doesn't stop some people, of course. It certainly doesn't help that sometimes the words aren't even meant to insult, or were simple things twisted around by tone of voice.

So, really, is it any surprise some people choose to avoid new people, and the risk they’ll say something that causes new wounds?

People who didn’t avoid them are either thick-skinned enough to ignore the words, or open enough to admit that they hurt, but not give up on people in general. It takes a lot for people to be public figures, or even to pursue careers where lots of people will see them regularly. Though he’d met his fair share of both people who were unbothered, and those who chose to interact with others regularly either way, it is still hard for Jihoon to understand the reasoning of it.

Why give anyone else that kind of power over you? The ability to carve reminders of your own doubts into your skin, despite your best effort.

It took a lot to trust the people he was close to, while spending time with them semi-regularly, but strangers? They aren’t worth that effort. People are either worth the risk, or they’re not, and it’s far too easy to find out when they’re not.

People who are worth it are harder to find, and it's an effort that seems unnecessary when you already have plenty of people in your life.

Unfortunately, despite any complaints Jihoon has, Mingyu _is_  his friend, and he probably would have agreed- eventually- even without the promise of food. Not that he’d go around admitting that any time soon- he’s known Mingyu long enough to know he wouldn’t let that go if he did. Mingyu had been his friend since they were middle school students- Mingyu in the year bellow Jihoon, but being his new neighbor, at that time- and even though they get annoyed with each other, that friendship has lasted so far. If they had to put a reason for it, it was probably that they knew each other well enough to know times when they can use certain words- ones one or the other has as scars- without causing more damage. Because they’re well aware of each others limits, and aren’t nearly as willing to let each other hear those words from other people, as they are from each other.

And, in general, because they’ve both at some point been aware of every one of each others scars.

 

“Try me, I’ll turn back right away, you giant loser.”

“You wound me, you tiny, bitter man.” Mingyu rushes forward, ahead of Jihoon, to avoid being hit by him. They’re nearing their destination- an on-campus coffee place that also happens to sell the best, sweetest, bread on campus- so Jihoon doesn’t bother to give chase. He still makes mental note, however, to hit Mingyu later. It’s a mental note added to a pile of mental notes consisting mostly of violence towards people he calls friends.

“That’s a lie, shut the fuck up.”

 

By coincidence- and the fact that their college is fairly small- Jihoon already knows at least one of Mingyu’s new friends. He shares a class with Seungcheol- a class said man happens to be failing- and they’ve briefly talked on one or two occasions. The other two- Wonwoo and Hansol- he’s only ever heard of from Mingyu, and even then it was without knowing their names.

They aren’t, by any means, bad people. At the very least, they don’t seem it. Still, it’s hard to ignore the ever-nagging voice that says that someone doesn’t have to be bad in order to hurt someone else. Idly, Jihoon runs his hand over his left arm, as they talk to him.

“I think Mingyu exaggerated how scared we should be,” Hansol says, leaning against the table.

“Don’t be fooled,” Mingyu puts a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder, only to have it immediately shrugged off, “I was serious about him being evil.”

“How dare you. I’m an angel.”

“Don’t lie to the people.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You once punched me in the face and broke my nose because I tried to wake you up.”

“That was an accident, and also: shut the fuck up.”

 

People think they’re being nice.

Contrary to popular belief, he actually used to considered a taller kid. Then most everyone had growth-spurts, and ended up approximately 7ft tall, and suddenly it wasn’t true anymore. People think they’re being nice, sometimes, when they say things that personally offend you. It isn’t as if they’re trying to, it isn’t as if doing so makes them inherently a bad person.

People think they’re being nice. So the faded, curvy, letters- overlapped by the same word, multiple times over- that curl their way up his left forearm really aren’t things he can actively blame anyone for.

_Cute._

 

When they were in high school- Jihoon in his last year, and Mingyu just one behind him- they spent a lot less time together. It wasn’t as if they were suddenly not friends, and more often than not one of them would spend dinner at the others home, since they lived right across from each other. It was just that they had other friends, and didn’t need to see each other much. Then, at one point Mingyu disappeared for three days in February.

It wasn’t like he was just _gone_  or anything. He was at his home. Jihoon knew that much because his parents mentioned it, briefly. But Mingyu didn’t leave his house, or come to school, for those few days. Then, when he returned, it was like nothing happened.

People assumed he was sick. Most people assumed he was sick.

Except one person makes a comment about thinking that they, “finally made one he’d be too ashamed to come back to school after,” and, really, it should have been more surprising than it was. Should have been harder to process. Because Mingyu is a good person, really, and nothing burned into his skin is something he deserves.

And, so, it’s not really surprising when Jihoon gets a detention for kicking someone in the face.

He finds that Mingyu’s shoulder is engraved with tiny, faded, lettering. _Giant,_ followed by a mess of overlapping letters that’s indecipherable. Caused by multiple words, unable to be made out, but hateful none the less, being thrown at the same time.

 

They separate from Mingy’s new friends (“They’re basically yours now, too,” Mingyu says when Jihoon says something about them seeming like good friends for Mingyu) as it begin to get dark. With excuses about studying, and a pointed look at both Seungcheol and Mingyu, Jihoon manages to escape the situation. Mingyu follows him all the way to his dorm- since they’re only three doors down from one another- in surprising silence.

“Thanks,” Mingyu says, just before Jihoon closes his door on Mingyu.

There’s a pause. Jihoon nods. “You did promise me food.” He closes the door.

 

Once, when he was very young, Jihoon heard an insult thrown at him that, despite knowing lots of words, for his age, he didn’t understand. All he knew was that it was said harshly, like an attempt to tear him down as a person. So, even though he didn’t know _what_  it was supposed to mean, it etched its way over his right leg, in blocky font.

It wasn’t until years later, when he looked down at it and had a startling moment of realization that it didn't mean _anything_.

 _Fairy_.

 

Mingyu and Jihoon have a mutual friend- most of their friends are mutual, actually- who wants to be a dancer. He’s good, too. He- Soonyoung- has a honestly admirable amount of determination. Even when scars trail over his skin, over even his hands, visible. He doesn’t shy away from attention, nor his scars, and it’s admittedly a feature of his that one can look up to him for.

It should be something that is purely that, too. But people don’t like knowing that they’re incapable of doing something. The fact that he’s able to wear those words so openly on his sleeves- in a literal sense, as well- when Jihoon more often then not hides his from himself, is frustrating.

The fact that it bothers him, is frustrating.

 

“Hello you’ve reached the phone of Lee Jihoon please don’t leave a message ever.”

“I know this isn’t your answering machine.”

“Beep.”

“Jihoon.”

“What do you want, Soonyoung?”

“More people to come to my performance.”

“And you called me?”

“We’re friends.”

“On occasion.” Soonyoung laughs, and Jihoon finds himself rolling his eyes, despite knowing Soonyoung can’t see him. “Yeah, okay, I’ll try.”

“Thanks.”

 

When Jihoon was twelve years old, he decided, very adamantly, that he would never leave the house again. He was forced to go to school, despite his insistence that he could be home schooled, but outside of that he’d chosen never to go outside again. It last, too, because nobody really wants to force him outside. His logic is something that his parents can’t argue with, really, even though they want to. Even though they want to assure him he’s wrong.

“If I don’t go outside then I can’t get any more words.”

It’s not entirely true. He could insult himself, and have the same result, if he means it enough. But there’s such a smaller chance, if he doesn’t leave his house. They try to argue that he has to leave the house sometimes. That he can’t avoid people entirely. That there’s enough good to come from it. Just as much of it as there is bad. Maybe even more.

Jihoon is having none of it, though. Refuses at every chance, and ignores everyone when he _is_ forced out of the house.

He keeps this up, too. For years. Then Mingyu become his friend- all but forced into his life by his parents inviting the new neighbors over almost daily, or the other way around- no matter how much he tries to pretend they aren’t. Then, Mingyu makes friends with someone he promises Jihoon will like, and tries to get Jihoon to leave the house to meet him.

Refusal is kept up for a while. Jihoon doesn’t give up so easily that it happens right away. But, as stubborn as Jihoon is, Mingyu is just as persistent.

“You can wear headphones, and not speak directly to him, or whatever you want this time, just please? I want my friends to know each other.”

“Fine.”

Jihoon leaves his house, bundled up far more than anyone needs to, in the late spring weather, with headphones on his ears, and the volume turned up enough it might just damage his hearing. He communicates purely by typing things out on his phone. To his credit, Mingyu still seems to see this as a success, and that’s how Jihoon meets one Boo Seungkwan.

Seungkwan is an energetic, bright, person a couple years younger than Jihoon, who takes the state of their meeting really well. It’s through him, that Mingyu and Jihoon both meet Soonyoung.

Soonyoung, who’s hands bare scars of words that Jihoon has a hard time picturing anyone saying. He wonders, somewhere in the back of his mind, if it’s difficult. If looking at them every day, unavoidably, is painful. If they hurt, still, like fresh, burning wounds.

But they’re faded, soft, and if they hurt, Soonyoung would wear gloves. If they were too much, he’d hide them. If he was as messed up about them, as Jihoon is of the few, easily hidden, scars he has, then he would cover them.

Whatever frustration he feels, part of him does take solace in that. In the fact that it _is_  possible to move past them. To look at them and not feel anger, and guilt, and pain.

It still hurts, knowing he isn’t able to do that yet, but it’s something. And, maybe, the bitter feeling in his gut will turn into a motivation to stop believing other people.

When he’s sixteen, Jihoon stops adamantly refusing to leave the house, even if just every once in a while.

 

As it turns out, Soonyoung’s performance is just an hour after Jihoon has a final for his English course. A class he only took because it would help his overall progress towards his major, and one he dislikes immensely. It would be easy enough to just say that he has a final right before, and that he wont be able to make it. Even if it’s only partially true- he’ll be a bit late at most, if he does go- it would still work.

Which is why, when he leaves the class, that afternoon, he isn’t really sure why he only rushes to his dorm to drop off his stuff, before heading there. It would be easy enough to avoid, and he’s usually expected to avoid anything that means being around other people.

Still, this is important to his friend, and he cant actually bring himself to lie in order to get out of it.

Mingyu seems surprised, when Jihoon finds him and drops down next to him. Soonyoung’s performance is just a minute away, he managed just barely not to be late.

“You came?”

“Obviously. You can see me.”

“I just mean, you had a final today…”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t have to say it, for Jihoon to understand what the look on Mingyu’s face means. He hits him- because he hadn’t forgotten his mental note to do that, and because he doesn’t like the look- so he’ll stop. Mingyu has no right to look so damn proud about this, of all things.

 

Mingyu is, undeniably, far too tall. Like, unfairly so. It’s a fact no one would really argue with, and is the reason that comparing someone to him, in terms of height, is entirely ridiculous. Most people would, in turn, think this is a good thing. A quality that, more often than not, is the one used to mock _other_  people. Mingyu has never really cared much about it, according to his own words. He’ll occasionally use this trait as a means to halfhearted teasing of people who are shorter than him- which is most every one of his friends, but especially Jihoon- but otherwise it’s not something he thinks much about.

It’s not.

By the time they are both graduated, Jihoon and Mingyu are fully aware of each others scars. When you’re close friends with people, for a long while, you tend to know them fairly well. Tend to find out things that they don’t always share, or don’t always think about themselves. It’s a scary thing, to have someone know so much that they could use against you.

By the time they both graduated, Jihoon and Mingyu are fully aware of each others scars. There’s a perfectly type-font word on Mingyu’s back that might as well be a matching piece with the messy scrawl on Jihoon’s right shoulder blade.

Sometimes, even if the word doesn’t sound bad, its meaning is enough. The reason it was said, is enough.

 _Building,_  is a stark contrast to, _child_.

 

The first generation is sprinkled in between people lucky enough to be born just a year, or a few months, before the generation that would end up with scars. Before the populations slow transition into one where words marring your skin is normal. Jihoon’s grandmother was lucky enough to be born just before then, and she, sometimes, looks at him far too sadly.

“I wish you didn’t have to deal with them. You shouldn’t let them get to you, they’re not true.”

It’s strange, really. To hear someone talk about people insulting them and, despite the words mentally sticking with them, having nothing to hide, physically. It’s stranger, still, how words of comfort feel so… wrong. How, “ _shouldn’t let them get to you_ ,” makes him feel sick to his stomach.

It isn’t like he has a choice.

 

“How’d you get into my dorm?” Jihoon glances shortly at Mingyu, who’s leaned back in Jihoon’s desk chair.

“Your dorm-mate let me in.”

“Damn it, Jun.” Jihoon would make a mental note to hit Junhui, if it wasn’t for the fact he sees his dorm-mate approximately twice a week in passing. Their schedules being practically the opposite of each other, had more benefits than negatives, but not being able to complain to the person himself when Junhui did something like this, is certainly a negative. “Why are you here?”

“Can’t I just visit my friend?”

“You could. But you don’t.” Jihoon drops his bag next to his bunk, before flopping onto it and glancing at Mingyu, across the room. “What is it?”

“I really did just want to visit.”

“Are you avoiding studying?”

“No…”

“Fine, fine. But did you even come up with something to talk about, while you’re here? Or do you plan to just shut up for once?”

“Have you ever known me to shut up?”

“Yeah, back when you were scared of me.”

“I’m still scared of you.”

“That’s good.” Jihoon sits up, stretching in an attempt to shake off exhaustion. “So what’s wrong?”

“I told you I just wanted to visit.”

“You wouldn’t have had Jun let you in, if that was the case.” Mingyu usually just waits for Jihoon to get back, if he wants to visit. The only reason he wouldn’t, is if he was upset and didn’t want to risk that Jihoon wouldn’t let him in. Jihoon knows him too well not to realize that.

“Was just thinking.”

“A dangerous thing.” Jihoon glances at the clock, before sighing. “Next time bring food.”

“No promises.” Mingyu laughs, spinning in the chair. “I just wanted to share my sweet new scar with my _best friend_.”

“But you came here instead?” Jihoon motions Mingyu over, despite his joking tone, and Mingyu rolls the chair towards him.

“Yeah, well, he’s really mean, so.” Mingyu shrugs. Jihoon only nods, taking Mingyu’s arm when he holds it out. “It’s not a new word, but…”

“Doesn’t really matter.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s pretty faded already, though.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve already dealt with it, haven’t I?” There’s a bitterness to his tone that is so unlike Mingyu that Jihoon actually fails to come up with a response right away. He knows, if he’s honest, that it’s a very him-like response, more than a Mingyu-like one. The feeling like it shouldn’t have done anything- shouldn’t have scared, shouldn’t have hurt- because he’d already dealt with those feelings. Already reflected on that word. Already understood why it hurt, and why it shouldn’t.

Already moved past this. Should be fine, now.

“Yeah, well, when have feelings ever decided to be logical for once?”

“Sometimes I get ice cream and feel happy. So that’s logical.”

“Now you’re just mocking me with food.”

“Ice cream isn’t food.”

“It is if you hate yourself enough.”

“You worry me.” Mingyu shakes his head, before turning to cough. Jihoon instinctively moves away, knowing Mingyu has a habit of not taking logical precautions not to spread disease. If he’s honest, the fact that none of Mingyu’s scars are related to being a walking epidemic, is surprising. Good, but still, maybe if one _were_ he’d be more cautious. Which is a terrible thought, and one Jihoon pushes aside.

“You worry _me_ , you sky-scraper sized walking illness.”

“Whatever, kid, you’ll survive my coughing.”

“I’m older than you, you walking epidemic.” Jihoon kicks at Mingyu’s outstretched legs, then the chair, forcing Mingyu back a few inches.

“And here I was, going to offer ice cream.”

“I don’t want food that’s gone anywhere near you.”

“Rude."

 

Left forearm. Right thigh. Right shoulder blade. Left wrist. Left rib. Under the right of his collar bone. Lower, left back. Words, different fonts. Mostly all easily hidden, with long sleeves and scarves. There aren’t any mirrors in the dorm that aren’t hand mirrors, and it’s easy, really, to hide them from himself. To pretend they don’t exist, because he never has to look at them.

 _Cute, and Fairy, and Child, and Evil, and Hermit, and Get To You, and Failure_.

If you take them, one by one, and go over them- think about why they aren’t true, or why they aren’t insults, or why they shouldn’t hurt- they really shouldn’t hurt. Why do they hurt?

If you take them, one by one, and go over them, you might get over them. Get past them, and decide that they don’t matter, that they don’t hurt. That nobody has enough power over you to make you think about something they said so much. (To make you look at it and know that someone _meant it_.)

But no matter how many times he goes over the words, again and again, for some reason he comes to the same conclusion.

Even if he should be over this, he isn’t.

And he hates that.

 

“Are you sure about that? It’s ice cream, after all, which is apparently food.”

“It is food.” Jihoon rolls his eyes. “But actually, real food is probably a good idea.”

“Have instant noodles?”

“Yeah.” Jihoon nods, understanding. Despite joking about not wanting food that’s gone anywhere near him, Jihoon knows Mingyu is actually pretty good at cooking. Even if noodles aren’t exactly a challenge. “Go ahead.”

It’s strange, really, Jihoon thinks. Mingyu stands to move to what could be called the dorm’s ‘kitchen’ while Jihoon flops back to maybe get some rest. It’s strange, but he knows no comparisons to building from him will do anything to Mingyu. Just like any use of all but one of Jihoon’s words from Mingyu wont do anything to him. They’ve mastered using them in ways that make them easier to hear, at least from each other, over the past few years. It’s strange, he thinks, that he can’t hear the words from himself, still, despite this.

“Why are literally all of your pans dirty?”

“Jun is a heathen.”

“Don’t blame your roommate.”

“Fine, we both are. Happy?”

“Yep.”

 

There was a time, when Jihoon was twelve- and a few years following that- when he refused to leave his house except to go school. The logic of why, and the habit of it, haven’t ever really left. It’s not unusual for him to stay in his dorm for days on end, except if he has to attend class. Nobody is really surprised by this, when it happens.

There was a time, when Jihoon was twelve, that he decided that going out into the world, that interacting with people, wasn’t worth the risk.

There’s a time, when in college, that Jihoon locks himself in his dorm for nearly a week, before he decides that he really can’t get away with this anymore. When he remember that his classes are important, and that most people will just ignore him anyway.

“You’ve risen from the dead, again. How rare. I was worried I just made you up.”

“It’s a talent, truly.” Jihoon breathes a sigh, not bothering to look at Mingyu. “Somebody put me on a cryptid show or something.”

 

There’s a distinct difference between being afraid of people as a whole, and being afraid of giving them power over you. Being scared to leave your home, for fear someone will say something and give you a new pattern of insults on your skin, is inherently different from being afraid that you’ll allow someone the chance to speak, only for them to take that chance to do something which breaks whatever trust you’re allowing them.

 

Jihoon spends at most five minutes with Soonyoung, on one summer afternoon. It’s nearly the end of the year, and despite the usual weather for the area, the summer heat is worryingly warm. Soonyoung takes note of this and, without any hesitation, removes his jacket. There are more scars, there, nearly looking purposeful in their patterned arrangement.

Jihoon spends at most five minutes with Soonyoung, that day, and is immediately reminded of something he both admires and hates in the other. It’s less than five minutes, really. Just a few minutes.

“Do you think anyone would notice if I started wearing short sleeves again? Summer is murdering me, and college was already doing that well enough on it’s own.” Jihoon’s question is directed at Mingyu, instead of the person that prompted it.

“Notice? Yeah. Care? Probably not. If they do, I’ll hit them?’

“You’re not about to fight anyone.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m not totally prepared to beat someone up?”

“I’m insinuating that I once watched you try to punch a stationary punching bag and miss.”

“To be fair, I’m pretty sure he had also been spun in circles before that happened,” Soonyoung adds, from where he’s packing up his stuff to leave. He has a final later in the day.

“No this was before that. Somehow he did better that time.”

“Can we just… not remind me of this?” At Mingyu’s frown, the other two nod.

 

During finals week most people are far too caught up in their own heads to pay attention to anyone else. This is something Jihoon takes solace in, when for what may be the first time in years, he allows some of his scars to be visible.

There’s an itching in the back of his mind, about how bad and idea this is. About how it’ll just make things worse. How it-

“Oh wow, you actually did it. And here I thought It was just me.” Mingyu’s voice is vaguely startling, and Jihoon spins around to face him. They’re just outside the dorm building, so he’s not sure why he’s so surprised.

“Why are you...” Jihoon doesn’t need to complete the question, glancing over Mingyu.

“Solidarity.” Mingyu raises on of arms, the newest scar readily on display, and makes a fist.

“Don’t be dumb, that’s not necessary.”

“Most things I do aren’t.” Mingyu shrugs. Despite not knowing exactly what that’s supposed to mean, Jihoon gives a small snort of laughter in response.

“Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

 

If a middle school Jihoon was asked to describe his worst nightmare, it would probably be something along of the lines of being forced to go outside, without absolute certainty that all of his scars were hidden away.

If you asked Jihoon, now, what his worst nightmare was, it would probably be something like having a new scar appear somewhere visible while around other people. That’s probably it. The reason he feels anxious the second he no longer has a test in front of him with which he can distract himself.

Mingyu spends most of the day trailing behind Jihoon when they aren’t in classes (they don’t have any together). It’s borderline annoying, but there’s just enough fondness in having known Mingyu for as long as he has- and the reason behind his actions- that he allows it.

“Hey, you’re back early,” Junhui greets, when Jihoon enters their shared dorm, closing the door in Mingyu’s face. Jihoon shrugs. He doesn’t miss the brief second where Junhui glances at his arms, but Junhui doesn’t comment on it. “Are you really going to leave the poor guy out there?”

“He lives literally three doors away.”

“Yeah, but you know he’s still standing there.” Jihoon doesn’t want to admit Junhui is right, but he knows he is. So, with a sigh, he turns around and opens the door.

“Fine, you weirdo, come in.”

“I’m not weird. Closing doors in your friend’s faces is weird.” Mingyu glances around Jihoon- not that it he actually needs to, so he’s just leaning to the side to annoy Jihoon- and waves at Junhui. “Hey Jun.”

“Hey.”

 

The one day is far too stressful, and Jihoon has returned to his usual habits by the next day. Still he feels a small amount of accomplishment, at managing to make it through the day before. Something reflected in his unusual willingness to be genuinely nice without even pretending he’s not being. Something Mingyu wastes no time pointing out.

“Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

“You’re the height of comedy, truly.” Jihoon rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, obviously, why else would you keep me around.” Mingyu shrugs, moving back when Jihoon halfheartedly kicks him.

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. What’s up with you?”

“I’m counting yesterday as a success, but that doesn’t change that I’m back at it again today.”

“Progress takes time. Or you know, overcoming years of habits takes times.”

“Don’t suddenly become one of my smart friends.”

“Jokes on you, I was one the whole time.”

“Shocking. Heartbreaking. Call an ambulance I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Nevermind what I said earlier, you’re definitely yourself. Just as mean as ever.”

“It’s my only defining feature.”

“Okay but, on a serious note: you’re okay?”

“Yeah, obviously. If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be out of my dorm. I don’t know, I guess I expected so much worse that I’m pretty okay at the moment.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“And, uh…”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.” Jihoon meet’s Mingyu’s eyes briefly, and the other nods. “I said it was unnecessary- which it was- but, you know... it might have made it slightly easier.”

 

When meeting people, in a world where harsh words can leave physical scars, you can learn a lot about a person, right away. Even if you can’t see a single word, there’s a lot to be gathered by the way they hold themself or dress. And while over analyzing these things when meeting someone isn’t really good for anyone, it tends to happen.

A middle school aged Lee Jihoon meets Kim Mingyu and instantly knows three things. Mingyu immediately seems smaller than he actually is, because of his posture. Mingyu’s attempts to cover his own scars are so obvious, that Jihoon can instantly pinpoint where are least two of them are, despite not trying to. And Mingyu isn’t the kind of person he expects to be friends with.

 

When meeting people, In a world where harsh words can leave physical scars, you can learn a lot about a person, right away. College student, Lee Jihoon has been friends with one Kim Mingyu since middle school, and wonders what he’d think, if he just met him now. If his thoughts of that Mingyu, and current Mingyu, would be different, when it comes to first impressions.

“You know, I thought I’d hate you when we first met.” Mingyu gives a small hum of acknowledgement at this.

“Weird, I thought I would hate you.”

“The perfect start to a friendship.”

“Obviously.” Mingyu laughs, not looking up from his phone.

“Hey, make food.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because you love me?”

“Try again.”

“I’ll help you edit an essay next year or whatever.”

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> By the way the fairy thing isnt the way it is/used to be (?) used in the west (or just america.? Idk). It more like an adult went "aw your like a little fairy!" and some kid went "uh update thats now an insult i decided right now)
> 
> Anyway i hpe someone liked this story bc I did it all in one day and i ha"e myself


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